I Want You Alive

Unag's body trembled violently; Invag's words pierced his deepest fears and desires like poisoned needles.

He looked back at the battlefield, at the Broomflower soldiers still fighting to the death in pools of blood, and then at the unsettlingly silent horizon in the distance...

The reinforcements from Fran City were like a sword of Damocles hanging over his head.

He couldn't bear the consequences of failure, yet the allure of victory was too great...

Finally, a look of desperate madness and resolve flashed in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and let out a low growl from deep in his throat, "Fine! I'll gamble!"

He whirled around and roared at the messenger who had been waiting nearby, "Sound the horn! Assemble! All cavalry! Assemble immediately at the front! Including all outer scouts and reconnaissance troops! Now!"

"Yes, sir!" The messenger perked up, immediately mounted his horse, and galloped away.

Soon, a low, urgent horn sounded from behind the Sauron Army, creating an eerie contrast with the sounds of fighting on the front lines.

The Sauron Light Cavalry, scattered around the perimeter of the battlefield on guard and blockade missions, heard this unprecedented emergency mobilization order. Although puzzled, they quickly turned their horses around and galloped towards Unag's location from all directions, like streams flowing into the sea.

The thunderous sound of horses' hooves echoed, and dust began to rise.

A cavalry force of about four hundred riders quickly assembled and lined up on the front of the Carnford position, which was still embroiled in fierce fighting.

This was Unag's last remaining force, and they were all lightly armed, but at this moment, they became the last hope to break the deadlock and decide the outcome!

Unag mounted his warhorse, drew his sword, and pointed the blade at the battlefield, which resembled a grinding wheel of flesh. He let out a hoarse battle cry, "Warriors! Follow me! Charge them! For Sauron! For victory!"

"Whoa!!!"

The cavalrymen roared wildly and brandished their scimitars.

Unag took the lead, leading this last remaining force like an arrow released from a bow, launching a desperate charge towards the exhausted Carnford defenses, which had been fighting for half a day!

The final bet has been placed!

With his last ounce of strength, Karl gripped the hilt and blade tightly with both hands, pressing the tip of the longsword fiercely into the gap between the helmet and neck armor of the Sauron Berserker beneath him.

The other person let out a few indistinct coughs, laced with blood and foam, and then their struggling body suddenly stiffened before collapsing completely.

The overwhelming stench of blood made it almost impossible for Karl to breathe.

He released his sword and tried to prop himself up, but a strong sense of weakness and dizziness suddenly overwhelmed him, causing his vision to go black and him to fall heavily back into the pool of blood.

The euphoric effects of the Militia Potion were rapidly fading, replaced by intense fatigue from overexertion and a tearing, aching muscle.

He felt as if his body had been hollowed out, and even raising his arm was extremely difficult.

Just then, a series of muffled and rapid hoofbeats, like a death War Drum, came from afar and clearly reached his ears!

He recognized the sound all too well; it was the sound of a cavalry charge! And it was coming from the direction directly in front of them!

"Cavalry! Sauron cavalry!" A soldier on the battlefield screamed in terror.

Karl's heart sank. He tried to stand up again, fighting off the dizziness, but stumbled due to exhaustion.

Suddenly, a hand covered in cold plate armor firmly grabbed his arm, steadying his swaying body.

Karl turned his head with difficulty and looked through the narrow observation window of his helmet.

The person who helped him up was also wearing a set of elite plate armor stained with blood and dents.

But Karl recognized those eyes, as blue as the clear sky over the Northern Sea, peering through the visor of his visor.

It's Charlotte.

Karl laboriously raised his hand, untied the helmet straps, and took off the heavy helmet.

His face was already soaked with sweat, blood, and mud, his hair was wet and stuck to his forehead and cheeks, and his breathing was rapid and heavy.

He looked at Charlotte and forced a tired but reassuring smile, "... Thank you."

He leaned almost all his weight on Charlotte to barely keep his balance.

Charlotte didn't remove her helmet, but her worried voice came through the metal visor, tinged with a deep anxiety. "That's their last reserve force, the Sauron cavalry, Karl, we... we've done our best."

Her voice trembled almost imperceptibly, filled with a helpless despair.

As if to prove her words, the last of the Goldfinch Cavalry at the rear of the Carnford Army, led by Roland, finally let out a desperate roar and charged towards the Sauron light cavalry, whose numbers far exceeded their own!

However, the mere dozen or so riders appeared so frail and tragic in the face of four hundred Sauron light cavalry charging towards them.

Like moths drawn to flames, they knew they were outmatched, yet they still went without hesitation!

Their goal was not to defeat the enemy, but to buy Lord Karl and the remaining troops at the main position a final bit of time to retreat!

"They're buying us time!" Charlotte turned sharply to Karl, her voice rising with urgency. "Karl! You're the Lord! Your duty isn't to die here! You must retreat! Back to the castle! You've done everything you could! Go!"

Karl's gaze swept across the horrific battlefield, watching as the Goldfinch Cavalry, like a fragile dam, were instantly overwhelmed, submerged, and torn apart by the torrent of Sauron Cavalry...

He knew Charlotte was telling the truth.

Retreat may be the only rational choice.

But he firmly shook his head.

His gaze returned to Charlotte, his eyes eerily calm. "They can't escape, Charlotte. They won't hold out for long. On the plains, exhausted infantry can't outrun Light Cavalry."

"If I'm destined to die, I'd rather face the enemy and die here than be slashed in the back while trying to escape; that would be too shameful."

After saying that, he suddenly bent down and pulled the longsword stuck in the corpse, the blood-stained blade once again pointing at the approaching enemy cavalry.

"It was my misjudgment of the situation that led to everyone's deaths." His voice wasn't loud, but it clearly pierced through the clamor of the battlefield, carrying a heavy sense of self-reproach. "If I choose to run away now, there will be no future, no future at all, but at least I can choose how to face the end."

He took a deep breath, his hand gripping the sword still trembling slightly. "Since I have led everyone into this desperate situation, then now, let me use this life to apologize to all the soldiers who trusted me and followed me here."

His gaze swept over the soldiers fighting fiercely around him, a hint of pain flashing in his eyes, but more so a resolute calm.

Charlotte panicked! She abruptly removed her helmet, revealing a face covered in sweat and gunpowder, yet still beautiful and captivating, her azure eyes filled with anxiety and anger.

"Karl von Schmidt! Listen to me!" Her voice was sharp with urgency, even tinged with a sob. "So what if we lost the battle? Victory and defeat are common in war! We may lose today, but we can fight back tomorrow! Carnford is still here! The people are still here! As long as you live, we still have hope!"

She stepped forward, almost grabbing his collar. "Look at the Northern Territory, which battle is guaranteed to be won? No one will blame you for misjudging! A living Lord is the heart of the land! What will happen to Carnford if you die? What will happen to those who trust you and have entrusted their lives to you?"

Her tone shifted from agitation to a pleading, sorrowful lament. "I don't want you to play the hero and die to atone for your sins! I want you to live! Do you understand? More than a tragic defeat, we... we need a living Lord!"